


A Nearly Peaceful Place

by Nataliastheme



Category: Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Gen, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Clint Barton, Kid Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Protective Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28408437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nataliastheme/pseuds/Nataliastheme
Summary: Natalia has no place in this world. She’s being trained from a young age to become world’s most cunning spy and she has been living up to that title. At eleven-years-old, she and a few other Red Room trainees got transferred to America, creating an undercover division overseas. Being placed in an ordinary high school, life proves to be difficult while keeping the appearance of a seemingly normal life up . Four years and a blooming friendship later, the missions are getting intenser and the nightmares more frequent. She’s struggling with her loyalty to the Red Room while protecting the few she learned to love, but knows there’s something worse than death waiting for her if she betrays her motherland.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Phil Coulson, Ivan Petrovich & Natasha Romanov, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 27
Kudos: 36





	1. Into the Fray

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfic I have ever written and I'm both extremely excited and nervous to publish it online.
> 
> I love torturing my favourite (Natasha) and it might get a bit dark later on, so just keep that in mind if that's not your thing. I intend to end it on a happy note though (no Endgame-scenarios here, I promise). This can be Clintasha if you want it to be, but I intended to just focus on their friendship. It's mostly Natasha-centric. She's in a place where she's getting more and more confused by the things happening around her. She's more vulnerable than she lets on, and that will slowly come out to play in the later chapters :) 
> 
> English is not my native language, so please don't be too harsh on me if you find any mistakes! I would love to hear what you think about it! This will be a multi-chapter fic and I have a lot written out for it already, but I'm also extremely perfectionistic so I can not promise regular updates! 
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you'll enjoy this! 
> 
> _Italics = Russian_

“Again Natalia! Think of your footwork, you’re being sloppy!” Ivan’s voice bellowed through the gym. Natalia swiped a sweaty stray lock of hair behind her ear, chest heaving from exhaustion. She had been training for a few hours now and her lungs seemed to finally start protesting.

Across from her Yelena was doubled over, elbows resting on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. Sweat dripped down the blonde’s head. Ivan shook his head and returned to his seat on the other side of the gym, where both he and Dimitri had been seated for the last few hours.

The fight wasn’t over yet, not until one of her mentors told them so, exhaustion be damned. Ivan did not need to give them a sign to continue. Both girls knew the game.

So Natalia drew herself back up, arms at the ready, watching Yelena mirroring her movements. Shifting her foot forward, Natalia lunged, jabbing her elbow in the direction of Yelena’s ribs, only to be blocked by the girl’s arm in return. Quickly, she twisted away to avoid getting grabbed and tugged to the ground. Though her muscles ached from the continued abuse, she was experienced enough to not let it show. At least not in front of her mentors.

She adeptly dodged Yelena’s incoming punch and grabbed the arm as leverage to bring the blonde off balance. Hooking her foot around her ankle, she shifted her weight and brought the girl down with a loud thud.

Natalia’s hands were slick with sweat beneath the wraps she had carefully put on hours ago. Flyaway hairs dangles in front of her eyes, a messy braid on her back. It was late. She didn’t need to glimpse outside the window to know, her exhaustion was enough to tell her that it was probably close to midnight now. Late enough to guarantee she would only get a minimal amount of sleep before she was expected back at school the next morning.

It meant nothing to the men currently overseeing their sparring session. She gave them a quick glance, allowing the scowling Yelena some time to get up. The men talked quietly between themselves, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the two girls before them.

Ivan Petrovich Bezuhkov was, in the first place, her mentor. Twelve years ago, when her family home was left burning, it was said to be him who had pulled her out of that fire. Fire that had killed her parents, but had spared her. Natalia had no memories from that part of her life, from before the Red Room. She had been three when she was brought in. Her life in the academy was all she had ever known. She was lucky, they told her, to have been given a purpose. Serving and protecting her motherland was the greatest honour. As a trained assassin and spy, she would make her country proud.

And she was good at it too. Trained from a young age, she had quickly risen through the ranks, besting every other student. Four years ago now, she had been chosen to serve in a new subdivision of the Red Room, which was to be placed in America. Yelena and a few other girls were selected too, all students with great promise. They had followed Ivan and Dreykov overseas, who had taken it upon them to continue the girls’ training now they were no longer able to join the other students in their regular classes.

Long ago, when she was little and particularly tired after a gruelling training, Ivan had beckoned her, inviting her on his lap. It was the only time anyone had ever talked to her about them. Her Mama and Papa. He petted her, and comforting her with soft words about her parents. How he had been close, before they had burned to their deaths. How she was only a little thing back then, barely reaching to his knees. Her _Dyadya_. Uncle, she had called him.

She didn’t remember. But it did make for a good cover story when they had moved the academy overseas. She was placed under his roof and care. Here, sticking close to reality, she acted as an orphan who had lived with her uncle in Russia her entire life, until he had gotten the opportunity to bring his business over to America.

Natalia was shaken out of her stupor by a kick flying towards her face. She blocked it with practiced ease, shoving the foot aside. Her heart was pounding beneath her ribs, sweat trickling down her back. Quickly, she landed a counter attack, striking for the ribs. Yelena stumbled, but recovered quickly, springing back into a fighting stance, fury clear on her face. Natalia advanced, circling in.

Just as in real battle, her senses were prickling, hyper aware of everything going on in the room. In the corner of her eyes she could see her uncle watching her every move, following every strike she landed and every attack she deflected. Next to him, Dreykov lounged lazily, a cigarette planted between his lips.

General Dreykov didn’t attend the girls’ training often, preferring to leave things to his subordinates. But it had never meant any good when he did visit. She hated the man with a passion. But she carefully concealed that in the deepest, darkest place of her mind so that it would never see the light of day. She didn’t want to give them a reason to punish her if she could help it.

He was a nasty, heartless man, who used any means necessary to reach his goals. Dreykov had created the Red Room, years before she had even been born. The subdivision had been his idea. Everything that happened within the academy, came through him first. From the girls that entered the program, to their training schedules and the missions they were send off to. He was Ivan’s boss and friend, and her boss by default. She learned early that you didn’t defy Dreykov. You only obeyed. 

Distracted by her own thoughts, Yelena’s fist found its way towards her stomach, crashing in at full force. Natalia doubled over in pain, eyes watering despite her best effort. She had to will herself to straighten up again before Yelena could take more advantage of her distraction. A grin was plastered on the girls’ face when she looked up, clearly satisfied having caught her off guard.

Wiping some sweat from her face with the back of her hand, Natalia tried to clear her head. She needed an opening in Yelena’s defence, a weakness that would allow her to finish the battle. She felt sick from the pain radiating up from her stomach, but she made sure to keep her face emotionless, as she had been thought. Yelena was well trained. She knew the same tricks and moves Natalia was taught, which made defeating her that much more difficult. But, the girl was known to be impulsive and quick to act on her emotions. It made her more dangerous than any of the other girls she was trained with. 

Circling, Natalia decided to test the girl, going in for a series of strikes, trying to keep the blonde on her toes. They were both exhausted, their reflexes not as fast as they could be. But also both still lethal, only their full control over their bodies stopping them from causing serious harm.

Yelena blocked every single strike Natalia threw at her, panting, but too stubborn to give up. The girls whirled around, fists and kicks flying. They were not beneath biting and pulling hair, either. There were no rules in the Red Room for sparring. They were taught to use any means necessary to bring down their opponent. But when it came to Yelena, Natalia had always had a weak spot.

Though they shared no blood, Yelena was like a sister to Natalia.

They were mostly on the same level when it came to fighting, with Natalia’s practical experience that came with her age, giving her a slight advantage. But they had been trained in the same, brutal manner. The Red Room taught its students to show no mercy and no weakness. They were both trained, capable fighters and there was no holding back when they were forced to face each other.

She always had trouble hurting the younger girl.

She couldn’t pull her punches, not with Ivan and Dimitri watching them so closely now. But Natalia had learned to have immense control over her body. She knew exactly where her kicks and blows would land, how hard she needed to punch to make it hurt, and where to strike to cause the most pain. She used that skillset to her advantage when she sparred with Yelena, as much as she could get away with anyway.

The same couldn’t be said about the younger girl. Yelena was a whirlwind, attacking at full force, as deathly and cunning as they had been taught. Natalia knew her head was set on proving herself. It made her emotional and unpredictable and their fights that much more intense. Yelena was on the verge of being allowed solo missions, something that Natalia had been doing since the last two years. She was desperate to prove herself.

As the minutes ticked by, the fight became more and more brutal.

Natalia threw her arms up just in time to block another kick to her head. Yelena’s attacks were pure emotion, driven by the will to win. She knew that Yelena didn’t mean to hurt her badly, but she was so set on winning the match you wouldn’t be able to tell. Natalia had trouble deflecting the girl now. Her muscles groaned with tension, her breathing heavy. She didn’t know for how much longer she could get away without hurting the girl. Before she needed to use other methods. Or before she had to give up from pure exhaustion. She knew she needed to intervene.

Taking advantage of the kick that was aimed for her head, Natalia grabbed hold of the leg, throwing the girl off balance. She rolled in, using her elbow to hit her in the stomach, before leaning over and throwing the girl over her shoulder. Yelena landed elegantly on the mat, rolling away from her reach. The girl positioned herself behind her, inching closer, until she was near enough to go in for a tackle. Natalia twirled away, not as graceful as she had wanted to be.

Too late she spotted the fist that connected to her jaw.

Her head moved with the impact, slamming to the side. Her vision went black for a second, her head started pounding instantly, and was left stinging where Yelena had split the skin. Tasting blood, she led her tongue glide over her teeth. She glanced up, to Yelena who grinned apologetically before moving in for the next strike.

Natalia blinked rapidly, getting rid of the lingering darkness, pushing the pain away. She couldn’t afford to slow down now. She would have to deal with the pain later.

She readied her arms, holding them up in defence. Yelena launched herself with a great cry, hosting herself up using her arms as leverage and wrapped her legs around Natalia’s middle. Natalia let herself drop, reached behind and grabbed hold of Yelena’s arms. Flipping the girl off, she rolled away from the deathly grip.

Yelena’s eyes flashed.

Natalia jumped up, slamming into the body that came rushing at her. Yelena stumbled at the sudden impact, grabbing hold of Natalia’s braided hair with a growl and dragged her down with her as she fell. The girls rolled, fighting to get the upper hand.

Natalia janked her hair loose with a sharp tug, feeling strands being ripped from her scalp. She launched herself on top of Yelena, who was now planted face down on the flooring. “Give up!” She hissed agitatedly. The girl trashed and growled underneath her. “ _You need to stop it_!”

“ _Nyet_!” Came Yelena’s reply, still fiery, even when she faced defeat.  
Trapping her legs with her own, Natalia pressed Yelena’s head against the flooring. She grabbed the girl’s arm and twisted it sharply behind her back, efficiently ending the fight.

Her chest was on fire. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so exhausted. There didn’t seem enough oxygen in this room to ever get her breathing back in check. She longed for her bed, and a long, fresh shower. She lessened the pressure on Yelena’s arm, and moved to glide off the body, that had finally stopped thrashing around. Breathing hard, she threw her mentors a glance, the unasked question in her eyes.

Dreykov stood up.

Natalia raised her eyes in question, waiting for permission.

He gazed down on the two girls, cigarette resting between his fingers.

“Finish it,” commanded Dreykov.

Natalia paled.

“Sir?”

Her eyes glanced from Dreykov to Ivan, who sat indifferently, matching her gaze. She didn’t expect any mercy from either of her mentors. She looked desperately down on Yelena, whose face lay still against the mat, betraying no emotion. 

“Do it!” Dreykov roared.

Natalia twitched. She clutched the girl’s arm in her sweaty grip, ignoring how fragile it suddenly felt in her deathly hands. She didn’t want to do this. It’s her fault for letting it come this far. She should have stopped it before things got out of hand. But they would be off so much worse if she disobeyed now. She had no choice.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry sestra,” she whispered softly, so that only Yelena could hear. The girl just gritted her teeth. Natalia yanked the arm up with a pop.

A muffled cry slipped from the girl’s throat. The arm remained laying uselessly on the small of her back. Natalia fled from the figure, her throat tight, allowing Yelena some space now that they were done. A growl sounded from the side-lines.

Natalia whirled around, eyes finding her mentor.

“Who said it’s over?” Dreykov barked in his hoarse voice. He stared at them with fury in his eyes, his face turning red.

“Get up Yelena, you useless girl.”

Fury rose from the core of her body. Her muscled trembled with it. Had they not done enough tonight? They were expected at school tomorrow. And Yelena... If she had not grown up with it, Natalia would have damned the unfairness of it all.

Feeling brave or stupid, she found Dreykov’s eyes, matching his stare. Where the look of fire in her eyes would have send lesser men down, Dreykov stood his ground, staring right back at her. An invitation, daring her to defy him.

He was waiting for her to object. Waiting for a reason to be able to punish her.

Natalia hurt all over. She had gotten Yelena into trouble. She did not want to deal with the consequences of defying Dreykov, and risking he take it out on Yelena.

Despite the fire that still roared inside of her, Natalia lowered her eyes in submission.

She watched Yelena scramble up with effort, seemingly too tired to object the order. She clutched her now useless arm tightly, turning her good side towards Natalia, readying herself for another fight. The pain was clear in her expression now, no longer able to hide her emotions while stubborn tears escaping down her face. Natalia swallowed.

She knew she would pay for going easy on Yelena. She knew that she was expected to take advantage, exploit the new weakness. But she couldn’t. With any other person, she could shut her emotions off, become the machine they trained her to be. But this was her sister. She couldn’t hurt the girl any further. Yelena’s pain was on her. Let her suffer the consequences. 

The battle that followed wasn’t a long one.

Yelena was running on fumes, she could tell. She felt herself flagging too. Yelena pushed on, using her knees and feet to make up for where her arm failed. Natalia dodged, rolling away where she could. Keeping her own offensive to a minimum, she planted her attacks mostly on the left, the girl’s uncompromised side.

She allowed herself to slip up after a few minutes. Yelena recognised the opportunity, jumping in on her and bringing them both to the ground. She landed on her back, causing her breath to be knocked out of her body at the impact.

Yelena was on her in an instant, using her weight to keep Natalia from bucking up. She moved to press her elbow down on her neck, keeping her in place efficiently, as they had been taught. Acknowledging her defeat, Natalia didn’t try to fight back.

She could feel the uncertainty in the girl on top of her. Dreykov kept silent. The elbow shifted, releasing some of the pressure that had been building up in her head.

A growl from the side. A beat passed. Then both Yelena’s hands slipped around her throat, squeezing, still pinning her body down with her body. An apology flashed in those eyes. Obeying was the best way to stay alive in the Red Room. Natalia understood. She was just glad it was her on the receiving end this time.

Seconds passed and left Natalia wheezing, Yelena’s fingers still painfully tight around her neck. With her training it meant that she could hold out a little while without oxygen, but she didn’t have any air in her lungs to begin with. She was trained not to let her emotions take over. But her mentors’ lessons had proven to be unpredictable. If they deemed this lesson valuable, they would let her die, only to bring her back again, showing that she could never escape their control. She didn’t fear death, but she was mortified of losing control of her own body.

She was slipping away quickly. She tried her best not to let the panic in. Yelena looked frantically towards her trainers, waiting for a nod. Any signal that the fight was over, that she could let go. The seconds kept ticking by. The fingers on her neck shifted in unease. Natalia’s vision grew darker and darker, until she could see stars dancing before her eyes. The panic was real now. She couldn’t help it. She clawed at her sisters’ hands, desperate to break free. Dreykov was ruthless. Who knew they would do to her if she was unconscious, what lessons there were to be learned.

She could feel her limbs go weak, her hands sliding to the sides.

Just before everything turned to black indefinitely, Dreykov spoke up with a grunt.

“Let her go.”

Before the words were even finished, Yelena’s hands released their hold.

Wheezing, Natalia clutched at her throat, trying desperately to suck in much needed air. Her head pounded, her heart loud and painful in her ears. She just laid there for a few seconds, giving her senses time to recover. The pounding slowly faded into a dull ache. 

Breathe, she needed to breathe. She repeated the mantra in her head. Stars still danced before her eyes, so she squeezed them tightly shut, trying to focus on inhaling precious oxygen.

When she finally felt able to, she forced herself upright into a sitting position, finding support against one of the pillars behind her.

She was so focus on getting air back into her lungs, she didn’t hear Dreykov approaching until he crouched down by her side.

“ _You’ve grown soft_.” His breath smelled like tobacco and booze. Natalia turned her head, trying not to cringe at the movement and the smell coming from the man. It hit her in the face like a bus, making her stomach clench. She opened her eyes to see his growling face hovering above her.

His stare was piercing. “ _You thought I would not see_?” He started. “ _You thought I would miss it_? _Have you simply grown careless, or is it that you think of me as a fool_?” His words were loud and harsh, echoing through the silent gym.

“ _Let this be a lesson Natashenka._ I do not miss _.”_ He switched back to English at those words. His face was inches from hers now, a hand gripping her knee. “Yelena needs to learn how to overcome pain. And so do you. Pain is a weakness you cannot afford out in the real world. Let me not see that weakness in you again, or you will regret it.” His nails dug into the skin on her leg at his last words.

Pulling her gaze away from his, she willed herself to nod. Dreykov released the grip on her knee, letting his hand drift towards her.

“You’ve grown into a pretty little thing, Natalia. And such potential...” His voice was softer now. He brushed her cheek tenderly, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. Natalia clamped her mouth shut, her stomach rising up at the touch. “If you only listened better. And stopped being so damn stubborn. We know what’s best for you, devoshka.” The words were meant to sound kind, but coming from his mouth they felt like a threat.

He stood up at that, relieve settling in her bones when she sensed him moving away. Blinking, she tried to get rid of the darkness that still lingered around the edges of her vision. She did not regret her choices tonight. No matter what Dreykov said. The only thing she felt sorry for was that she had not been able to spare Yelena.

She sat there for a moment, sucking in deep breaths, slowly letting the nausea and throbbing pass. 

She had just gathered her remaining energy to will herself upright, when Yelena appeared before her, holding out her hand. A peace offering.

Natalia grabbed hold, allowing herself to be pulled upright. Yelena’s arm had been pushed back into its socket, as if it was a normality. There was no longer any sign of pain on her face, instead a steely mask had taken place, not unlike the one she usually put on.

The truth is that injuries were common in their field of work. Though tough to conceal at school, they had managed so far. Growing up in the Red Room meant that they could put up with a lot of shit. Her mind wandered to new bruises she had collected this evening and how she would try to hide them this time. People usually stayed out of her business. She had made it a point to unsure that people didn’t bother her and kept out of her way. It worked for most people. But then there was Clint.

Standing back on two feet, without the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Natalia became rapidly aware of her aching limbs. As they prepared to return home, the girls kept silent. They never talked about their training. There was nothing they could say that the other didn’t know. They didn’t hold grudges, not when it came to their training. So when Natalia let herself be pulled up, they simply just let the hold linger a bit longer, silently telling the other that they were sorry. A squeeze, and then they let go.

“See you at school?” Yelena asked, her gym bag over her good shoulder. Natalia nodded, managing a small smile. “See you at school.” She watched the girl disappear behind the double doors, before returning to collecting her own stuff.

Her throat still felt tight when she made to grab her water bottle that she had left near the walls of the dojo. She was shaky, though she did her best to hide it in her movement. Her jaw had grown swollen and stiff. Dreykov was nowhere in sight, probably having left the building as soon as he could. Well, that would made two of them.

Natalia was on her way out, when her uncle’s voice reached her.

“ _Natalia, come here for a second_ ”

She turned around to see Ivan still seated on the bench against the wall, holding a folder in his grasp. He beckoned her, patting the bench beside him. Complying, Natalia inched forward, hesitantly lowering herself next to him. The look on Ivan’s face was all business. He handed her the folder, leaving her to inspect the contents. No word about their training.

“ _A mission has come up for you, Natasha_.”

She only really needed one look at the papers to understand what this was about. Targets. People for her to kill or seduce. So there had been a reason Dreykov visited their training today.

“ _You’ll be infiltrating their security systems. They have valuable data on their computers and we need access to it.”_ Natalia flipped through the contents of the folder, reading along as Ivan explained about the details of the mission.

“ _You leave in two days. It’s a short flight and a low risk operation. If you’re quick about it, you’ll be back next morning_.” Natalia nodded. She would only be away from classes for a short amount of time. They usually made sure she didn’t draw too much attention to herself by keeping her absence to a minimum. Everything to keep up the appearance that she was a normal school-going girl. Sometimes they couldn’t avoid it, when an important mission like this popped up on short notice.

She looked up from the papers to glance at her uncle. He was watching her intently, much like he had done when she sparred with Yelena before. She was used to his constant eye on her. She knew there was no room for mistakes, and she knew that it was Ivan’s very intention to make sure she didn’t make any.

“ _Dreykov went soft on you_.” Ivan started. Natalia swallowed. She knew this. She could have been punished badly. She guessed she should be lucky that she was needed for a mission, or she would have suffered worse than she did. “ _This compassion for Yelena will bring you no good. I need not remind you of the consequences of compromising yourself in such a way_.” There was a look in his eyes she couldn’t exactly place.

She knew that compassion was a weakness. She could not explain why she still felt it in such a strong way, when she had been trained to ignore it. Ivan sighed, starting to hoist himself up.

“ _Read the folder. Get some sleep. We’ll brief you tomorrow evening_.”

“ _Yes Uncle_.”

The gym grew silent at last.


	2. Reunion of friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the sweet comments on the first chapter! It makes me 100% more motivated to keep writing. This one turned out to be a little longer than I intended and I hope you don't mind! It's rather different from the first chapter, but the action will return soon! 
> 
> If you like what you read, it means the world to me if you left a comment! It's amazing to know that there are actually people who read my stories now! I hope you will continue to like them! :)

Waking up was not her favourite part of the day. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she had a favourite part of day. Sluggishly she opened her eyes, rubbing them to clear away the sleep. It felt as if she had barely closed them since last night, when she had dropped dead on top of her bed, foregoing to change out of her gym wear. She regretted that decision now, scrunching her nose up at her own smell.

She stiffly turned her head, taking in the time at the alarm clock next to her bed. With only twenty minutes to spare, she had to hurry if she wanted to wash away the layer of sweat caked to her skin. If she was lucky, it would give her enough time to wash up, do something about the bruise on her face, put on something more approachable and maybe scramble together some form of lunch, if there was any.

Groggily she climbed out of bed, winching at the tightness of her muscles. Some hot water would help with that, she thought wishfully. Her throat and jaw still felt sore, but appeared to be no longer as swollen as the night before. She didn’t have the chance yet to inspect the damage in a mirror. Hopefully she could get away with just dabbing on some concealer.

Without the warmth of her bed, a chill settled into her bones. The November cold penetrated the house and left her shivering. Luxury hadn’t been on their minds when the Red Room assigned them to this place. What they had needed was a house close to the high school Natalia was to attend, ordinary enough so it wouldn’t draw any attention. They ended up with an aged building, located in a questionable neighbourhood that was close to her high school. There was an old office building nearby that was conveniently turned into a gym, to serve as a cover mantle for Ivan’s business. On cold windy days like these, the chill seeped in through the cracks and windows of the house, reminding her much of the freezing winter nights back at the Academy in Russia.

Practicality was the key word when it came to their living situation. The house itself only held the barest of necessities and contained nothing that would give away their double lives. It was still in the exact same state as the day her and Ivan had moved in. It resembled the house of a bachelor more than a family home. Natalia herself hadn’t gone out of her way to change her bedroom either, not that her uncle would have allowed for it. Having her own bedroom was a luxury on its own compared to the dormitory she shared with the other girls in the Red Room and it had taken some time to get used to.

Sighing, Natalia forced herself into action, grabbing a still passable looking set of clothes from her desk chair and headed for the bathroom.

Minutes later, Natalia rushed down the stairs, towelling off her still dripping hair. She had replaced her sports top and leggings for a simple but heavily worn pair of black jeans and a faded grey hoodie. It was a few sizes too big, but it didn’t bother her much. She liked her clothes that way. They were good for hiding things. Like bruises. And knives.

Skipping the last few steps, she jumped into the kitchen, sending a silent prayer to no one in particular that she wouldn’t find Ivan there. Her days were always more pleasant when they didn’t start with a lecture from her uncle. Her wish was granted, as the kitchen appeared to be empty, except for the dirty dishes still waiting to be cleaned. At his leisure, Ivan slept in until deep into the afternoon, a pleasantry that she had never known.

She didn’t know much about those sort of luxuries, except for when she encountered it during her missions. Ivan kept her in a sober lifestyle. Before moving to America, she hadn’t known anything besides the Academy, the place where she grew up. Life was a routine there, the girls only allowed access to the bare essentials. Food, water, sleep. And sometimes not even those. Strict schedules to match their even stricter training. Ivan strived to keep that same routine going. It made her resilient. Or so he said. 

She didn’t know any better.

Moving from the Academy in Russia to America had thrusted her into an entirely different world that had her shocked at first. Even now, four years later, she encountered things that she wouldn’t have dared dream of its existence.

With few minutes left to get out of the door, she ditched the towel, grabbing the least questionable looking apple from the fruit bowl at the counter and stuffed it into her backpack. She had no time for making any meal, be it breakfast or lunch. She would probably go hungry by lunchtime, but it wasn’t an exception. It was another thing you learned to deal with growing up in the Red Room. 

Glancing around, she found her half-finished homework at the kitchen table, jammed beneath a pile of her books. She stuffed the crumpled papers with the apple in her bag. Showing up to school with uncompleted work would likely earn her another speech from her teacher, but she would have to deal with that as well. She had bigger things to worry about.

Between training and missions, she hardly ever got time to do any schoolwork. It wasn’t a priority, neither for her or Ivan. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t try her hardest to study and work on her papers, even if it meant doing her homework at ungodly hours. She didn’t want to stand out as the kid that never did any work, when her first and foremost task was keeping a low profile.

She quickly shoved her feet into a pair of battered looking combat boots resting by the front door, grabbed her coat and headed out into the cold, windy outdoors.

It was late fall and most of the trees had already dropped their last leaves. It wouldn’t be long before the first snow of the year would fall. It wasn’t something she was particularly looking forward to. It wasn’t that she couldn’t deal with the cold, she was Russian after all, but snow reminded her of the Red Room, of the Academy that had been her home for the better part of her life. Bad memories of long cold nights, forced to spend outside while the girls around her froze to their deaths. She could do without the snow. And the memories.

Her trip to school wasn’t a long one. Occasionally, when she woke up late after another training session with Ivan, or if a mission had kept her up until morning, she had to run the two miles that separated the school building from her apartment.

In some ways, being send to school was a mercy. As part of her integration in the American society, her trainers had decided that it was in their best interest to have the girls attend a public high school instead of simply keeping them at home. Thanks to her thorough training and education at the Red Room Academy, classes came easy to her. And despite not being able to keep up with the assignments, she usually had no trouble following along in class. Ivan had made it very clear that she needed to keep a low profile. She couldn’t stand out. Not in class, not during exams, not during PE. She often found herself having to hold in because of it, deliberately making mistakes.

Nevertheless, school was a welcome distraction. An escape of some sorts. It was a glimpse at what her life could have looked like, had things been different. If she had been born in a different world, where she was not chosen to protect her motherland. If Ivan hadn’t pulled her out of that fire and put her into the care of the Red Room. No, she had long ago decided that she liked going to school. Not for the least part because she had found friends.

It was the unlikeliest thing. To her defence, she _had_ tried to stop it. She didn’t want trouble with Ivan _or_ Dreykov. Keeping people out came naturally to her. Usually. But not with Clint.

Their friendship broke about every rule Ivan had set about making emotional connections. Being friends with Clint meant being friendly with what seemed like most of her class. It was hard to explain to him that if her uncle knew about their friendship, she would probably get murdered. Or worse, _he_ could get murdered.

She had no intention to get into trouble. Causing trouble in the Red Room was a bad idea. Though her uncle had met Clint – unintentionally – twice before, she had kept their true friendship a secret from Ivan for the past four years. And she meant to keep it that way, if she could help it.

Turning up at the school’s entrance, she saw the shaggy looking blond in question loyally waiting for her. The bell had just rang, announcing that they now both risked arriving late to their class. It didn’t seem to bother him as he allowed her to catch up with him.

“Rough night, ha?” Clint said with a sly look on his face, taking in the bags under her eyes.

So much for using concealer, Natalia thought resentfully.

“Good morning to you too, Hawk Guy,” she quipped back, burying her chin further into her sweater.

Together, they walked into the building, dodging the other students that were hurrying to get to their classrooms. As far as the outside world was concerned, she spend most of her free time working in her uncle’s successful fitness and martial arts studio. And as far as excuses go, it was a solid one to explain the bruises that slipped into sight from time to time.

After her shower, she had done her best to cover up the bruise on her jaw. The ones on her throat were carefully hidden from sight by her hoodie. She figured she hadn’t done too bad of a job, but Clint always seemed to have eyes like a hawk. It had earned him his nickname a long time ago.

She found him staring at her when she turned her head. Damn him.

Natalia sighed in defeat. “It has been crazy lately.” She wasn’t exactly lying either. She _had_ been absurdly busy the past few days. Just not in a way Clint expected.

She ignored whatever the look on Clint’s face was as they turned up to the classroom, where students were still trickling in. Clint and her shared most of their classes, something that she didn’t mind at all. As much as she hated being around other people, it was nice enough being with him.

“Hey listen,” she started as they headed towards the tables in the far end of the classroom. “Can I steal your notes for English for a bit?” She settled down on one of the benches near the window. “I really meant to finish it last night, but it got so late and...” She trailed off. A few rows to the front, Bruce, a smallish brown haired boy, gave them a friendly wave as means of a greeting as he walked towards his seat. 

One of the perks of being friends with Clint meant being invited into his friend group, whom he had been with since childhood. Contrary to herself, being friendly with people came to Clint as a second nature. His friends were good people, though an unlikely combination. She wasn’t as close to them as she was with Clint, but they didn’t mind her standoffishness as much as the other kids did and she appreciated them for that fact alone. Over the years she had become glad to call them friends. 

She gave the boy a friendly smile in return, before she turned back to Clint, who was holding his notes out to her from underneath his desk. She mouthed a silent thank you, smuggling them under the textbook that she had planted on the table. Their teacher had walked in and the class slowly started to settle down.

She spend the majority of the class hastily copying Clint’s work and scribbling down notes as the teacher went on about the latest piece of literature they had been assigned to. She didn’t pay particular focus to the words. Her mind kept drifting to the new mission ahead, as it always did when she was required to work later on.

Though she couldn’t prepare much without being properly briefed about the mission, she would always mentally go over possible scenarios. 

The faces of her targets passed by in her head one by one and she recited what she knew about them, flipping the pages of her notebook absentmindedly.

Ivan hadn’t lied, it should be relatively easy, an in – out. Distract and disable the targets, retrieve the information from the computers, and disappear without leaving a trace. Simple enough. If things ever were simple.

Continuing to copy down Clint’s words in her own book, she made a mental note of remembering to thank him again later. One class less to worry about. Sometimes she didn’t know where she would be without him. 

She dreaded Mr. Rumlow’s class. She had no paper written, nothing to hand in. She couldn’t ask Clint, if she would write the same essay as he did it would get them both into trouble. She would just have to deal with whatever punishment he would come up with.

She finished writing down the last few lines of their assignment, right before the bell went off that indicated the end of class, glad to now have at least something to hand in next hour.

It made going through her English class much easier. It turned out to be as boring and uneventful as always.

It wasn’t until her third hour that it happened.

Mathematics, as always, was chaotic. The teacher was an older man and the kind that struggled to keep order. The kids sniffed out his insecurity as fast as a detection dog sniffs drugs. They were quick to take advantage of it and ignored their work to the best of their abilities. Today was no exception.

Natalia had her nose pressed in a book, occasionally chatting with Clint who was per usual seated next to her and currently engaged in a lively discussion with Tony and Bruce. Tony was the class clown and a pure genius. He shared his love for science with Bruce, who was at least as smart, if not smarter. Clint had known them since childhood and though he claimed to just put up with them, they were dear friends.

Currently the duo was bend over a piece of paper, hands moving too quickly to see what they’re creating. Knowing them it wasn’t anything good.

Flipping her page, she half-watches Tony rise from his seat, his voice loud and exciting. Clint and Bruce are laughing, and Tony is practically bouncing up and down. “This is it, this is it, this is it.”

He’s halfway on his attempt to climb his table with what appears to be a very complicated looking paper plane in his hands when their teacher finally twitched in his seat at the front of the room and snapped.

“Tony that is ENOUGH.” The last word was shouted through the room, as the ruler in his hand came down with a loud crack on the desk, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room.

It’s all it took to make the classroom disappear before her eyes.   
  


* * *

  
She’s back in Russia .

The air grows cold around her as she watches her breath rise up in the air in tiny puffs. She’s in a small classroom with high ceiling windows. Twenty-one small desk tables are placed in neat rows, a grey chalkboard the only decoration on the barren walls.

The thin cane came hurling down from nowhere, landing with a snap on the top of her hands. “ _Wrong,_ Natalia,” sounded Madame B’s cross voice. Natalia stared straight ahead, not daring to meet her teachers’ eyes.

Her fingers stung.

“Come to the front,” the woman beckoned. Natalia hesitated for a small second.

“NOW.”

The rigid looking woman towered over her, making her feel incredibly small. Natalia pushed away from her desk, feet moving on autopilot, leading her to the front of the room.

“Hold your palms up. Like that yes,” Madame spoke. She did as she was asked.

“Now, you will recite the last paragraph.” 

“From memory?” she said with a small voice.

“Of course from memory, stupid girl,” snapped Madame impatiently. 

“Every time you fail to speak correctly, you _will_ be punished and shall start over. Understood?”

Natalia nodded in response.

Instantly, before she could even blink, the cane came down on her open palms. Her hands throbbed on both sides now.

She corrected herself. “Yes, Madame.”

She gazed straight forward into the classroom and found twenty pairs of eyes staring back at her.

Taking a breath, she prepared herself for what was to come. The first Spanish sentence rolled of her tongue with relative ease, but as soon as she neared the second, she started doubting about the exact order the words had been phrased. Her words came out stuttering, letting her natural Russian accent shine through and no sooner did she feel the cane striking the tender flesh on her hands again. The girls in front of her didn’t flinch and neither did she.

They had only started picking up Spanish last month, she wasn’t as good at the language yet as she was with English, which she had no memory of having ever started learning. Mastering languages was an important part of being an Asset to her motherland and at the prone age of eight she was now starting on her fourth.

The stinging sensation swelled up, trying to overwhelm her, but she pushed the feeling down as much as she could. She could not let herself panic and embarrass herself in front of her classmates. It would be a sign of weakness.

She tumbled over the next few phrases, the stick coming down again and again.

She’s not weak. She just needs to prove it.

The cane struck her hands a total of fifty-eight times before she got the whole paragraph out right. The wells that had appeared on her hands had started bleeding and were left angry and red. She didn’t cry. She’s not weak.

She stood stoically, daring the moisture that had collected in her eyes to drop down.

“Natalia?”

Madame B. gave her a nod, as much praise as you would get in the Red Room.

“Nat?”

* * *

“Natasha?”

Clint’s voice buried itself into her head, breaking a way through the memories. Her fingernails were buried painfully into the meat of her leg. Clint’s concerned eyes prickled on her skin, but she couldn’t will herself to open her eyes.

It had felt so real. A chill had settled on her skin and a phantom pain throbbed in her hands.

“Tash,” Clint whispered again. She forced her eyes open this time and when she did, relieve flooded her at the sight of the classroom that did not resemble the one back in Russia at all. Chaos had ensued as if nothing had happened, and Tony’s paper plane was now stuck in between the wall and the whiteboard in front of the class.

Clint leaned towards her, hanging over his chair. “You okay?” he whispered. She nodded.

He didn’t look too convinced. “You were out of it for a whole minute.”

“Just..” She tried to find her voice. “Lost in my head.” Clint waited for her to explain more, but she couldn’t find the words. Too drained to think of a lie that would convince Clint. She dug her fingers out of her legs, flexing them to try get rid of the remnants of pain that still lingered. She turned to him.

“I’m okay.” She tried to make her voice sound convincing, forcing the corners of her mouth into a smile.

She spend the remainder of the class ignoring Clint’s concerned gaze and blocking the excited yells of her classmates out. She made herself focus on the whiteboard in the front of the room, repeating the words that were dribbled there over and over in her head.

She thought she had it under control.

Her defences were weaker when she was tired. The intense missions and training lately left her more exhausted than ever. She knew that it’s not an excuse. She couldn’t let it be. She mentally slapped herself for allowing to let the memories overwhelm her like that. She should know better.

When the bell went off, she almost instantly shot up, ready to gather her things and run off.

“Just going to the bathroom,” she said quickly, when she sees Clint looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll meet you in the canteen in a sec.” And at that she shoots out of the classroom leaving a baffled Clint behind.

Running off into the still mostly empty hallway, she tries to calm herself down. She finds a deserted stairway and leans against the cool wall, letting it ground her. She needs the quiet to push away the emotions that were still raging in her head. She couldn’t afford to think about Clint. She knew her behaviour worried him. She can’t let it happen again. Though it hurts her, and more likely hurts him even more, she has to keep up the lie. 

~

When she goes to find Clint in the cafeteria, she’s feeling noticeably more in control of herself. The room is crowded, as outside rain had swelled up. She didn’t care for that many people around her. It was loud and chaotic, making it hard to keep overview of the situation.

She allowed herself to take a breath before heading over to the table that was occupied by her friends. People bumped into her on the way over and she didn’t like to admit that she did a sigh of relieve when familiar faces popped up in front of her.

She slid into the empty seat between Clint and Steve, who had made room for her as soon as they saw her approach the table.

“Hey Nat, how was your weekend?” Steve asked kindly.

“It was nice,” she gave him a soft smile. “Yours?” She reached in her backpack, drawing out the spotty apple she had brought as she listened to him ramble about some artist fair he had visited.

Sinking her teeth into it, she took her time to glance around the table. Steve, sitting next to her, was at least two heads taller than her. He and Thor, who was currently sitting on the edge of the table and even taller than Steve, were both massively into sports. They’re the type of kids that were popular with almost everyone in the school. Thor had moved into their neighbourhood around the same time as she did, and instantly befriended Clint’s friend group.

It had taken her longer to allow herself to get friendly with people. In her early days, she would find herself an abandoned staircase and spend her lunchtime in blissful solitude. Until Clint had figured out and managed to find her every meal, even when she started switching her hiding places. She pretended she hated him for it, but even she had to admit that her lunches were much more pleasant being in the company of someone friendly.

“Hey Nat!” Tony said, who was sitting next to Bruce and chewing rather grossly. He gulped the food down and continued. “Guess what. It’s Pizza Day! You need to try one!” Before she could say anything, he plopped a greasy slice in front of her.

Another perk of their friendship was that they all seem to have gotten used to her turning up without any food and had started to casually share their meals with her a little after she had joined their table. She never said it out loud, but she was thankful that they never asked any questions. She didn’t have to come up with excuses in front of them. They might not know if there was anything going on, but they took care of one another, no matter what. 

“Thanks Tones,” she grinned. American pizza was one of those things she had discovered to be very fond of.

She finished her apple before sinking her teeth into the dripping-fat pizza. Only then did she notice that Clint was watching her, perhaps the entire time. She found his eyes staring at her in question.

“ _Are you okay?”_ They said.

She once again found herself wishing that she could just be honest with her friend. He deserved so much more than her and her lies. Guilt rippled through her as she nodded her head and opened her mouth to let the lie roll of her tongue. She couldn’t answer him though, as somebody suddenly came up from behind.

“Scoot!” Sounded the low voice, and before she could turn around, Yelena sank down between her and Clint, who was now almost falling off the bench. “Hey!” he said indignantly, but he didn’t actually seem mad.

When Yelena had joined their school a little after she did, there was no hiding her friendship from the younger girl. Instead Natalia had made it a point to include her in the group. The blonde wouldn’t rat her out to Ivan. She had become to like them too much.

“Ohhh you got pizza for me? Sweet!” And she grabbed the half eaten slice from Natalia’s plate, only to take a big bite out of it.

“Hey!” She repeated Clint, prying the piece from Yelena’s hands. “Sharing is caring Sestra,” Yelena answered, shrugging her shoulders. Natalia peered down only to see that half of it was missing. She actually did mourn the loss of her pizza a little. She made a pouting face.

“Can you believe that?” She had to lean back to be able to see Clint, now that Yelena had wedged herself in between them. Clint rolled his eyes at her. “Don’t look at me.”

Maybe it was her, or he actually did seem a bit annoyed that their conversation was broken off so abruptly. She was sure he wouldn’t drop it though. He would find a way to get to speak to her.

The three of them fell into an easy conversation, the incident from last class momentarily forgotten. Clint pretended it hadn’t happened and Natalia acted as if nothing had gone wrong at all, keeping her mask up.

She shared the rest of the pizza with Yelena and when it was gone, which happened way too quickly, she licked her fingers clean.

When the bell went off again, a dreadful feeling settled in her belly and it took her a while to remember why. It wasn’t until she and Clint turned up at the door and she saw who was in front of the class that she knew.

“Before you walk to your seats, I want you to put your papers on my desk,” sounded Mr. Rumlow’s voice from inside. Her stomach tightened. How would she get away with it this time? The kids in front of her marched to his desk, dropping their papers on top of the stack, Clint behind her. It was her turn.

“Ms. Romanoff?”

“About the papers, Sir,” she said, rubbing her wrist unconsciously. “I think I left mine at home.”

“May I remind you, Ms. Romanoff, that you didn’t hand in your assignments in a timely manner last time?”

“Sir I-“

“I’m afraid I can’t let you in to this class, Natalia,” Rumlow said sharply, cutting her off. He didn’t seem too sorry at all. “And I’m going to have to give you an F on this because I have nothing to grade for you. Those are the rules.”

She had never been more tempted to punch a teacher on the nose.

“I was sick last time. Sir.” She made a point to emphasize the last word.

“That might be, but I don’t make the rules.”

He stood up to full height, towering over her. “I suggest you go see Mr. Coulson, and see if you can come up with a solution. I don’t believe you will make it through my class, if you keep missing out,” he said wryly. “We wouldn’t want that to happen, do we?”

“No.” she gritted out of her teeth.

“Then off you go. I’ll speak to Mr. Coulson later.”

She stood frozen for a second, then remembering that Clint was behind her and people started looking to see what was going on.

She turned around, leaving a confused Clint that tried to catch her eyes and made way through the students that were marching in.

God she hated herself sometimes. If she was a little tougher, sat through the night and made her stupid homework, she wouldn’t be failing at school. Her only goddamn job, sitting through an ordinary high school and act as a normal civilian. She should be able to handle much more than a little sleep deprivation.

Her feet brought her to the Counsellor’s office, not realising that she had been walking in that direction.

She hesitated when she brought her fist up to knock on the door, contemplating to just run away. School be damned. The Red Room be damned.

It couldn’t be more than a fantasy though. Ivan would sure hear of it. She shuddered at the thought. There was no running away from her life.

She knocked.

“Come in!” sounded a voice from within. She opened the door.

“Ah, Miss Romanoff. I was wondering when I would be seeing you again,” Mr. Coulson said, not completely unamused.

“Mr. Rumlow told me to come here, Sir,” she said hesitantly. “Sit down, if you please Natalia.” Coulson gestured at the two comfortable looking cushioned chairs sitting in front of his desk.

“Did something happen in class then?”

“Not really Sir. Maybe. I.. We had to hand in our papers today, Sir. And I didn’t.” She looked down, focusing at the clutter on his desk, guilt colouring her face. She felt like a little child being scolded for doing a bad thing and she hated it.

“If I remember correctly, that’s not the first time, is it?” he asked.

“No, Sir.”

“You can call me Phil or Mr. Coulson, Natalia, no need for formalities here. I’m no teacher.”

“Yes, Sir. I mean, Mr. Coulson.”

A silence fell. Only after a few seconds did she dare to look up again, finding Mr. Coulson’s studying her.

“Is everything okay at home, Natalia?” he suddenly asked. His look was one of badly disguised concern. She had dreaded this question. More lies. Always the lies.

“Yes, Mr. Coulson,” she answered. He hummed in response.

“You’ve seem to be missing quite a lot of classes the last few weeks, haven’t you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been sick.” It was the excuse they had made up when she was out of class for the three days she was on mission.

“You’re living with your uncle?”

She nodded.

“And this isn’t the only class that you have failed to hand in an assignment for.”

It was a statement more than a question, so she remained silent. She had to remind herself that this wasn’t the Red Room. She wouldn’t be punished badly. Not in a way that hurt anyway. But she couldn’t shake the nervous feeling that climbed up in the presence of authority. Too many bad experiences to let herself feel at ease, no matter how kind Coulson seemed.

“What do you think we should do about this Natalia?” he asked. She didn’t know how to answer that question.

Luckily she didn’t have to, as suddenly the door flew open. She twisted her body in the seat to see her interrupter.

“She hasn’t completed her paper today because she was spending time writing mine,” Clint brought out panting, out of breath from what looked like sprinting the distance from their classroom to the office.

“Ah, Clint.” Coulson definitely sounding amused now. “What a joy to see you here.”

“Phil you can’t punish her,” he walked up to the desk, resting his hands on top of it.

“We hadn’t come to punishment yet, Clint, but I’m glad to have you barging in here so we can hear your side.” He shifted his gaze to Natalia, who sat perplexed in her chair. Why did Clint defend her like that? Doesn’t he know he’s bringing himself into trouble?

“Is it true Natalia?”

Clint urged her with his eyes. She looked at Coulson as if it wasn’t news to her. “Yes.”

“So not only have you,” he pointed to Natalia, “not completed your paper, but my own foster son has failed to write his paper by himself?” He leaned back in his seat. “You kids are giving me grey hairs.”

“You already have grey hair Phil,” Clint pointed out. “Yes, thank you Clint.”

“You’re welcome.” Her friend flopped down in the chair next to hers, arms widespread, completely at home in the office.

“What am I to do about you two?” Coulson said, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know, you could let it slide?” Clint said mischievously. Coulson shook his head again. “Like hell I am.”

“If I want to keep any integrity with Mr. Rumlow, you both deserve punishment.”

He was silent for a moment, as if in thought. “How about this. You will both write another paper. I’m not able to undo the mark you got for your unfinished paper today Natalia, but it will give you a chance to pick up your overall grade. As Clint received your help, it’s only fair that he helps you with yours.”

He looked at Clint then. “Since the assignment clearly stated that the paper is to be done by yourself, I say you make another paper as well Clint. The first one won’t be graded, so you better make sure you put in effort to write this one yourself.” Clint looked ready to protest, but Phil held up his hand.

“I won’t tell Rumlow that you’re making them together tonight if you won’t. ” He said, his eyes twinkling.

“I’m working late today, Clint, so I suggest you and Natalia make yourself comfortable at her house after school, finish those assignments, and deliver them to Mr. Rumlow’s desk tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?!” Clint said in dismay.

“I’ll let Mr. Rumlow know to expect two papers on his desk first thing tomorrow.” Coulson said, gathering a stack of paper. “And Natalia..” He took the time to catch her gaze. “I know you are a smart, bright girl. But if you fail to hand in assignments on time, teachers will not be able to grade you, and you won’t be allowed to finish this year. And I refuse to have a smart student like you stay behind a year. So don’t make me have to do that okay?”

Coulson rose up, tapping the paper into a neat stack.

“I don’t want to have to see you here again. And that includes you Clint,” he gave his foster son a stern look.

At that he headed out of the door, leaving the two behind alone.

Natalia looked to Clint, who had his lips pressed together, as to stop himself from bursting out in laughter and couldn’t help letting the laugh that bubbled up within herself erupt.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you want! :)


	3. Above and Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little insight into Clint, and Nat leaves on her mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today :D So I thought I would treat you all to a new chapter to celebrate.
> 
> This one provides a bit of an insight into Clint and how he is dealing with it all. I plan on doing some more (at least partly) Clint POV chapters later on. Maybe you have also noticed that I go between Natasha/Natalia a bit and I promise it has a reason and it's not just because I'm tired! 
> 
> As always, I would love to hear if you liked it! Comments and kudos mean so much to me and help me stay motivated to write :)

He knew Natasha was tough as nails. He really did.

But he can’t help but worry when he sees her turn up at school with more and more bruises every day. Not to mention the days where she’s just absent. No text, no call, nothing to let him know where she is and whether she’s okay.

He understood from the very beginning she was a private person. She never voluntarily offered information about her home life and it took some long months of spending lunch together on the rooftop or the staircases of their school, to get the tiniest grasp of the things she liked and disliked.

He’s okay with that though. He liked Natasha for who she was. He doesn’t like chit-chatting about his own personal issues either, so he respects that.

And maybe she really was just a reserved person, he thought. Or perhaps it’s something Russian he wasn’t aware of, something build in to keep others out.

On some days, after all these years of friendship, he thought he finally knew her through and through. Recognising the emotions behind that mask of hers. Her hand gestures and tiny smiles and god forbid he forgot about her unrequited love for pizza.

On others, he felt like he still barely knew her. And lately, there had been a lot of those days.

He didn’t like prying into her life. Hell, he didn’t like it when people pried into _his_ life. He was a big advocate for mind-your-own-damn-business. Yet he had shared everything with Natasha before. He has no secrets for her. She was the only person besides Phil that knows. About everything. And every one. Something about her made him feel drawn to Natasha from the very beginning and made him trust her enough to share his pathetic life story with her.

And it was for exactly that reason that he worried about her now.

It didn’t use to be like this. Sure, Nat had always been a busy bee, helping out at her uncle’s studio whenever she could. But he had never seen her like this. Like this... Shell. He didn’t think he would ever see her that way. Like a barely present, head in the clouds kind of person. The Natasha he knew was aware of everything going on, seeing right through you and your lies, always focused, maybe even too much so at times.

When he saw her space out in class, her eyes wide and definitely not there, he knew something was up. He wanted to help. He hated seeing her suffer.

He really wanted to say that he trusted her to come to him if she needed something, needed _him_. Yet lately, he had begun to doubt if she really would. If she trusted him enough to let him in.

He didn’t like to admit that the thought of it hurt a bit.

The walk to Natasha’s house had been mostly silent. Both of them deep in thought, huddled in their coats to hide from the gusts of wind that swept along the streets. It wasn’t until they turned the corner to her street, that Natasha finally broke the silence.

“My uncle really won’t like this,” she said with a voice that he didn’t ever expect to come out of the Nat he knew. She had her hands in her pockets, definitely avoiding his gaze.

When they had left Phil’s office, she had originally protested his suggestion to go work at her house. His foster dad had never liked the idea of him having people over when he’s not around. He knew it was not a trust thing, more of a protection thing, so he hadn’t objected to Phil about it. And he would lie if he said that he wasn’t even the tiniest bit curious to see Nat’s place again. They barely ever went there.

He had never been inside his friend’s house. He had waited in front of it, sat down on their front porch patiently waiting until Nat came out with whatever homework she had to pick up. But he had never seen the inside of it. In any of those four years.

Of course he had questioned it. Wondered about whatever her reasoning was for keeping him out. It wasn’t like he never asked her about it either. But he would always get the same sort of answer out of her. Ivan doesn’t want it.

This time though, Natasha had eventually given in, deeming saving her grades and her performance at school more important than whatever was stopping her from letting him into her house. With his place ruled out, they frankly really had no other option if they wanted to get it done on time.

“I’m sure it’s going to be okay,” he answered, trying to sound encouraging.

He had met the man two times before, by accident, he knew judging by the unhappy look Natasha had had on her face at the time. Once at the school gates, when her uncle came to pick her up, and once when they passed by her house before going to his, picking up her schoolwork. Her uncle hadn’t given him a second glance at the time and Natasha hadn’t introduced him. Something told him that she would rather keep it that way.

He couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous at the possibility of officially meeting her guardian and when he glanced at his friend, he could see the same nerves displayed on her face.

“Aw, Nat.. Come on,” he said, faking a pout. “It will be alright.” He gave her a friendly shoulder bump, trying to light the tension, and was pleased to see that a tiny smirk appeared on her face.

Her features schooled themselves back to neutral quickly. “It’s really nothing special,” she said nonchalantly, but the nerves that radiated off of her betrayed her.

“I really don’t care,” he said honestly. She should have seen the places where he grew up.

He paused in his strut to tug on her arm. “You’re my best friend Nat. You really think that anything about this will change that?”

Her eyes landed on him. “I know that,” she said, almost defensively.

She paused for a second then, as if to search for the right words. “I just really don’t want to get into trouble with Ivan. You know how he is about school and stuff. Doesn’t want me to get distracted and all that talk,” shrugging her shoulders.

“I’m sure I can handle your uncle Nat,” he answered. “And besides, we _are_ here for school, right? So he can’t honestly get mad at that.”

Natasha didn’t answer. They just walked further into the decaying, shabby looking street. It definitely wasn’t the nicest in the neighbourhood, especially compared to the one Phil and he lived on just a few blocks away. But it still felt uncomfortably familiar.

Natasha sighed beside him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He gave her a small grin. “I will manage Nat, don’t worry about me.”

She gave him a long look, before turning towards what once must have been a sky-blue coloured two-story building. The paint was peeling of the boards, with nails sticking out of the wooden frames that looked like the next gush of wind would blow the windows out of. It had definitely seen better years.

They walked up the stairs of the porch, which groaned dangerously under his weight as he stepped onto them, as if ready to snap into two.

“Here we go,” she said as she turned the key inside the lock. The door opened with a creak.

Almost immediately they were hit with the sound of laughter, freezing Natasha in place, hand still on the doorknob.

He hadn’t expected Ivan to be away, but he had secretly hoped for it. He didn’t necessarily feel like meeting her uncle. But he had no such luck. He was here, with company.

Natasha recovered quickly and pushed the door open, revealing the kitchen he had only been able to see in flashes before.

“Natalia?” came a voice from the other side of the wall. Then a sentence in rapid Russian followed, rendering him lost. “Da Uncle. I brought company,” she deliberately answered in English.

Clint glanced around the kitchen uneasily, finally taking in the space that his best friend called home. It was exactly as Natasha had described. Nothing special. It was plain, a standard kitchen you would find in any cheap rental house. It could do with a renovation, but besides the usual kitchen clutter, nothing stood out to him. Natasha tugged on his sleeve, urging him further.

“Come on,” she said, leading him towards the living area, where they found Ivan sitting.

Natasha’s uncle was an impressive man. He was large and muscular, with dark brown hair and beard that started to turn grey around the edges. Small, dark eyes featured his face, intently staring him down as he entered the room. His stomach twitched with nerves.

“Natalia, who is this?” Ivan asked, as Natasha went up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Her uncle held his gaze on him as Natasha approached him.

“This is Clint. From school. You have seen him before, remember?” Ivan only hummed in response. “We had to come here to work-”

The man sitting beside Ivan spoke up, cutting her off midsentence. “Natalia, don’t be shy! Come give Dimitri a kiss!”

He saw Natasha shift on her feet, eyes quickly going to Ivan, before heading to the stranger and giving him a peck on the cheek too. “Privjet Dreykov, it’s nice to see you again,” she said politely.

Ivan finally ripped his eyes away from him, turning his attention back to Natasha, beckoning her over so that she was seated on the armrest beside him. switching over to their native tongue.

Clint shifted uncomfortably on his feet, watching the conversation fold out in front of him. He felt oddly left out. It was clear that they were discussing him.

The room was thick with the smell of tobacco, swirls of smoke rising up from the cigarettes placed on the table in front of the two men. The stocky man who Natasha had called Dreykov, locked his gaze onto him, his beadlike eyes staring him down as if they could see right through him. The man wasn’t nearly as big as Ivan, but he made up for that in his demeanour. Being scrutinized by him made him feel like he was back in middle-school and having to face the teacher once again after climbing the roof. Except this man didn’t look like he would put him in the corner, it was more the look of a predator eying his prey. 

He tried to ignore it, instead focusing on Natasha, who was visibly growing more agitated as the conversation went on. Their voices rising, almost as if they had forgotten he was still there, unable to understand a word from what they were saying.

Dreykov, no longer deeming him worth his attention, mixed himself into the conversation, making Natasha fall quiet for a bit.

Ivan picked up his cigarette, holding it thoughtfully in front of him.

No one talked after that.

Silence filled the room. Ivan took the moment to glide his eyes over Clint, taking him in from head to toe. Then he spoke up.

“You’re welcome here, Clint,” he said in a low voice, emphasizing his name. “But I want no funny business. This is for school, no? So when you’re done working on whatever you need to get done, you’re done, understood? Natalia needs her focus.”

He wanted to say something, feeling the need to defend himself for something he didn’t know he did wrong. But Natasha shook her head ever so slightly, as if to warn him to not start any trouble.

“And Natalia,” Ivan started, grabbing her by the wrist to keep her from jumping off the sofa, “I do not need to remind you that you’re needed tonight?” Natasha shook her head vigorously. “Do not forget.” He squeezed her wrist before shifting his hand to swipe a misplaced lock of hair behind her ear. Only then he waved her off.

Some might have called the gesture affectionately, in an almost fatherly way. But he knew better, when he saw her flinch almost unnoticeably at the touch. He wouldn’t have spotted it hadn’t he been paying such close attention to her the whole time. Her uncle didn’t seem to have noticed. _Or he just didn’t care_ , supplied a voice within him. 

Clint stood awkwardly. He had never seen Natasha flinch. Ever. He knew her better than anyone. She was the tough one of their group, tougher even then Steve or Thor, who were at least a foot taller than her. He knew he was good at perceiving things, noticing small little details that others would miss. Natasha even jokingly nicknamed him Hawkeye. But had he not known his friend so well, he was sure he would have missed the small movement.

“I won’t uncle.” Natasha said after a moment, her voice collected, as if nothing ever happened.

“Good.” Ivan nodded, before picking up his cigarette again. At that they seemed to be dismissed.

They dumped their coats and soggy shoes in silence at the door in the kitchen before heading up. There, walking on the stairs and out of ears reach, Clint finally dared to speak up again.

“So uhm, your uncle is pretty intense.” He hoisted his backpack a little higher on his back.

“What?” Natasha answered, seemingly distracted. “Oh, yeah. I guess so.” She didn’t look back at him as they climbed towards the landing. “He’s a bit protective over me.” She breathed a laugh, but it didn’t manage to hide the bitterness he also detected behind her words.

He followed her in her pace until the steps ran out. “You really _got_ to teach me some Russian one day, you know that?”

Natasha snorted.

“I think I would be pretty brilliant.” Clint teased.

She answered with a slight smile. “If you say so.” 

“I would say we have enough on our plates with these papers, no?”

Clint huffed. “You said it.”

Natasha led him to a door on the end of the shadowy hallway. A quick shove with her body and it opened with a groan.

“Well, here we are,” she said, dumping her bag on the floor before planting herself on top of the bed, looking up at him expectantly.

Clint stood frozen in the doorway, suddenly finding himself unable to move.

He did not know what he had expected when he first learned he was finally going to see Natasha’s place. Her bedroom, her personal living space. But it wasn’t this. Maybe he had thought it would be cluttered, or really un-Natasha-like, girlish with pink tones. But he had not been prepared to find himself in a nearly empty room.

It somehow felt even more off than when he would have walked into walls of bright pink. Hers were plastered with a dirty off-white wallpaper that started peeling itself off at the corners. Her bedroom only held a simple wooden bedframe covered in a plain white sheet, a table with a stack of her remaining schoolbooks and a small dresser on the side of the wall. No posters, no clutter, no personal touches that indicated that his best friend lived here. Or that anyone lived here really.

“What are you thinking?” Natasha asked, looking up at him expectantly.

“Wow,” was the only word that managed to leave his mouth.. “I…” 

“It’s great. Neat. You’re very neat.” He could slap himself for being so awkward sometimes. 

Natasha smiled at him, as if seeing through his discomfort.

“Where’s your stuff?” he couldn’t help but blurt out. The question wouldn’t leave his mind. Did she somehow manage to hide all of her stuff in that single dresser? No one was that minimalistic.

His friend gestured to the space around her. “Here,” she said with a shrug. But seeing the look on his face she quickly added: “I have everything I need.”

He wasn’t convinced though, watching her pick on her fingers. If she thought the tough girl act would fool him, she was wrong. But he wasn’t looking for an argument. Not now she just let him in her home. He was supposed to help her, not make things more difficult.

“It’s not my fault I’m a messy pig like you,” she smirked at him.

“I really am, huh?” he mumbled, more to himself than to her, while he turned around on his spot, taking everything in now the shock seemed to leave his body.

“Now I kinda feel bad for all the times you have been in my room,” he said.

“Don’t feel too bad about it. I like yours. It’s cosy,” she winked. He took a few moments to roam around the room, taking in its details. Natasha had her nose buried in one of the books she had pulled out of her backpack, sitting on top of the blanket with her feet tucked under her. Even the bed was neat, with a tightly tucked white sheet covering the mattress, not a wrinkle to be seen.

The lack of lunches and the old oversized clothes always had him assume that Natasha and her uncle just had some money issues. But this? This was something else entirely.

Then Clint remembered something that he had noticed during the conversation downstairs.

“He doesn’t use the diminutive form of your name,” Clint said, recalling the conversation they had back in their early days.

“I thought you said you liked it better, that it was for people you’re close with?” Natasha answered with a shrug.

“I’m Natalia here. Ivan says ‘Natasha’ is for the Americans.” She tugged the corners of her mouth into a smile. “I am who I am. I do not care about my name, not really.”

A nauseating feeling settled in his stomach, a thought he had tried to suppress for some time, now coming back to haunt him once more. It was all oddly familiar. Too familiar. The flinching, the lack of food. The bruises. The idea that his best friend possibly wasn’t safe at home made the hairs on his arms rise, setting him off in a way that he didn’t know how to explain.

She would never admit it to him something was wrong..

Clint hesitated before speaking up. “He doesn’t seem to really like me.”

“Who?” Natasha asked, now fumbling with the bag at her feet. She knew damn well who he meant.

“Your uncle,” he said anyway.

“Ivan doesn’t like anyone, don’t take it too personally,” she said, drawing a folder from her weathered backpack.

“It sounded pretty personal to me.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” she bit back. Surprised at her own tone, she look back up to him.

She sighs. “He doesn’t like it when I hang around other people. Especially guys.” He arched his eyebrow at that.

“Thinks it will distract me.”

“From what?” he asked, genuinely confused. “From being a kid?”

Natasha dropped the folder on her bed, avoiding his eye contact again, instead focussing on a frayed end on her bedding. “School, the gym, whatever his plans are for me.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. He gave up a lot to bring us here. He wants the best for us. For me. He expects me to work hard because that’s what he did.”

Her face was an emotionless mask, unreadable even to him, when she looked back at him. “Can we now please just get started? I really need to finish this.”

He had to will himself not to clench his fist, to not outwardly show his frustration. “Yeah, okay,” he said, but everything in him did not want to leave it at this. A part of him screamed in his head, urging to keep pushing, until he found real answers. He didn’t though, as he dropped himself in the desk chair, resigning to his schoolwork.

The rest of the afternoon they worked on their respective papers, and Ivan wasn’t brought up again.

It hadn't taken them too long to finish it in the end, seeing as he already had in fact a fully written paper and knew plenty about the subject to help Natasha along.

Just around dinnertime, he found himself back out on the street again, leaving Natasha’s house behind him. He couldn’t shake the bad feeling that something was going on, something more then she let on. He wondered if he should tell Phil about it. It was his area of expertise. Why wouldn’t she tell him though? Was it fear holding her back? She had flinched when her uncle touched her..

He couldn’t get the image from his head, and Natasha didn’t leave his mind the whole way home.

* * *

The next evening, Natalia was relieved to finally be back in her room after another long day at school, if only for a minute.

Luckily this day hadn’t been nearly as eventful as the one before. Yesterday’s meeting between Clint and her uncle had unexpectedly gone well. Almost too well, a nagging voice in her head supplied, since Ivan hadn’t brought it up yet. She was still anticipating a punishment, or at the very least a stern lecture. Breaking the rules never goes unpunished in the Red Room.

At school, Phil had managed to convince Rumlow to accept their new papers, which bought her a ticket back into his classroom. She also considered it a personal victory that she hadn’t been plagued by flashbacks in any of her classes today.

Now though, she felt ready to drop dead. The lack of sleep in the past few days was starting to get to her, but she still had a plane to catch this very evening. The only positive was that she would be able to nap a bit on the flight, catching up on some much needed rest. It wasn’t that she couldn’t perform without any sleep, she was trained for that, but she would rather be on the top of her game. As sharp and alert as she could be, the way Ivan expected her to be.

A sharp knock sounded on the door and before she could turn around, her uncle let himself inside the room, carrying a garment bag in his hands. 

“ _Dreykov brought your attire for this mission_ ,” Ivan spoke, strutting in and disposing the package onto her bed. “ _Take it with you and dress on the plane.”_ An order.

She looked at her uncle, already dressed in his best looking suit. He would be her handler for this mission, as per usual. He wouldn’t go in to the party with her, but he would be on stand-by, a few buildings removed from hers. Ready to extract her as soon as she completed her mission.

“ _I think it will match the dress code well_ ,” he hummed. She didn’t question that. Dreykov wasn’t known for cutting corners when it came to dressing his girls.

Dreykov wouldn’t be going along. She wasn’t sure if she should be thankful about that. As the mission leader and head of the Red Room, Dreykov points the girls in the right direction and pulls the trigger of the gun. He figures out where they are needed, what is needed, and then deploys his school of assassins. He rarely ever goes out on the field himself. If he ever did, she would have yet to see it.

“ _Are you ready to leave then_?” Ivan questioned, pointedly looking at her empty hands. She nodded.

“ _Da, almost_ ”

“ _Well make sure you are, wheels’ up in twenty_ ,” he said shortly. “Dreykov and I are downstairs. Don’t make us wait.” At that he left her, loud footsteps making their way off the staircase again.

When the sound disappeared and she’s sure she’s alone again, she approached the bag cautiously, as if touching it would burn her. She opened it anyway, slowly tugging the zipper down and revealing a shimmering, midnight blue cocktail dress. It had thin shoulder straps and was small enough that she knew once it was on, it would hug her figure perfectly. It didn’t leave much to the imagination though. Sighing, she closed the bag again, placing it carefully on top of her nearly packed go-bag. It would serve its purpose of distracting her targets well.

She took a moment to freshen herself up and gather the last things before she finally headed downstairs, where Ivan and Dreykov were waiting for her.

“ _There you are devoshka_ ,” sounded the impatient voice of her superior. “ _Ivan gave you the dress?_ ” he asked.

She nodded her head. “Da.”

She wasn’t allowed to wear obvious weapons for this mission. No guns, no knives, nothing that could cause difficulty getting in to the charity event where she was expected tonight. Just a tiny lockpick set, carefully hidden alongside her bra, where it wouldn’t raise any questions when the metal detector went off.

“It shouldn’t be a problem for you Natalia.”

She wasn’t worried. The only weapon she needed was herself. Besides, this was supposed to be an easy mission, if they ever were easy. It was more stealth and less blood. She hoped.

Dreykov drove them to a secluded private airport where a small jet was waiting for them. It wasn’t anything fancy and she found herself happy that the flight would only last an hour or two.

“Make us proud Natalia,” a shoulder pat and a kiss on the cheek and she was boarding the plane, leaving Dreykov behind alone on the runway.

Lowering herself in one of the seats, she dropped her stuff underneath her bench, out of harm’s way. Ivan sat a little away from her, eyes already closed. The hum of the airplane was steady and comforting and before she knew it, her eyelids grew heavy, no longer able to keep them open.

It was as if she barely had closed her eyes when the plane underneath her gave a shudder, indicating that they had hit ground again. Her eyes were still heavy, the nap having done nothing for her exhaustion, she realised bitterly.

Two taxi’s waited for them as she stepped off the plane.

Ivan laid his hand on her shoulder as they stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll be a block away from you. Give me the sign and I will pick you up in the back alley, understood?”

“Yes Uncle.” She got this, she wasn’t worried.

He gave her a rare smile, one that made her question if he was capable of loving after all.

He touched her cheek, holding it affectionately. “You make me so proud Natasha. Seeing you grow up into the woman you’re becoming.”

She swallowed, not knowing what to do with this sudden approval, which was so unfamiliar to her.

“Go on now. Make us proud. When you’re back and everything has gone according to plan, I’ll have treat waiting for you.”

She couldn’t help the childish grin that made a way up on her face, happiness filling her at the thought of getting a surprise. She shouldn’t be wanting it, treats are for children and she’ll turn 16 in the new year, for goodness’ sake.

“Go,” Ivan nudged.

She turned towards the taxi that was waiting for her on the airstrip. With one more look behind her and seeing Ivan stepping into his own ride, she entered the car.

It knew where to take her without her telling the driver. Dreykov organised their missions thoroughly.

They headed towards the outer skirts of the city, which was illuminated by a thousand flickering lights. If she hadn't been so focused on the mission ahead, she would have taken the time to look out the window and appreciate the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I would love to hear if you liked it! Comments and kudos mean so much to me and help me stay motivated to write :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it! It would mean the world! :)


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